


Lonely Christmas

by CelticWarriorMoon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cute, Fluff, HOLIDAY 2016, Hipster Hanzo, M/M, McCree gets drunk as always and suffers for it, McHanzo - Freeform, Overwatch christmas comic, but McCree loves it, overwatch holiday comic, pairing fluff, reflections, why does Hanzo look different
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9640268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticWarriorMoon/pseuds/CelticWarriorMoon
Summary: I KNOW IT'S NOT CHRISTMAS ANYMORE, just please think of it as a post-Christmas fic 'cos that's honestly more fitting - Somehow, despite the happy occasion that was in it, Jesse McCree had found himself alone, with nothing better to do than drink destructively, on Christmas Day. Little did he he know that a special someone would turn up and try to make his miserable day better. McHanzo, based off of the Christmas Overwatch comic "Reflections".





	

It was looking to be a very lonely Christmas indeed.

Christmas Day. December 25th.

Dorado, Mexico. A place that Jesse McCree often wound up in, despite himself.

He didn't have anything better to do, after all. It wasn't as if he still maintained an active role in the activities of Overwatch. Not any longer, anyway. Unlike the many happy years he had spent working with the task force, years he still remembered with fondness, this Christmas was to be a solitary, separate affair.

Solitary it was.

Save for the young Hispanic woman across the bar (a woman he would later recognise as the notorious Mexican hacker Sombra), who, it seemed, was still effortlessly knocking back the alcohol, McCree had only himself for company.

His very drunken self, that was.

As he lay slumped in an unruly heap atop the counter, only a few stray thoughts made their way lazily through his mind. Many of them were insignificant, meant nothing to him, but one appeared to keep returning, despite his tired state.

_Hanzo, darlin'... where are ya...?_

Despite the occasion, McCree's Japanese lover was nowhere in sight. He had absolutely no way of knowing if he would ever show up at all, or even if he still cared enough to come back to him...

_I wish... ya could be here... sweetheart..._

The cowboy's incoherent stream of lonely thoughts were all he had to eventually lull him into the deep sleep that only sheer inebriation could bring about. A sleep which could allow him to be beyond caring about anything and anyone around him, without facing the consequences.

Except he did care. He undeniably still felt, deep within his being, that a significant part of him was missing.

That same feeling of incompleteness refused to leave McCree's side, even through his dazed sleep.

_Darlin'... Please... come back t' me..._

...

"Jesse. Wake up."

A voice. He couldn't tell if it was simply a figment of his distracted imagination, or if it belonged to someone outside the realm of his dreams. Wearily, he half-opened his eyes.

"Jesse."

This time, the masculine voice sounded more insistent, and was accompanied by a gentle hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking him into wakefulness.

The drunken cowboy thought nothing of it, and again closed his eyes. He was probably still imagining things.

"McCree. Come on. Wake up. Please."

That voice... he was almost certain he'd heard it before. It seemed eerily familiar, a voice that stirred half-hidden memories within him.

Even if he hadn't, it was clear that, whoever this person was, they weren't going to give up. Groggily, McCree opened his eyes, and slowly raised his head.

"Wha...?"

"It's me, Jesse. Hanzo."

_Hanzo... could it be...?_

The mere mention of his lover's name was enough to spark a faint glimmer of hope in the fatigued American's heart. He wanted to believe it was true.

Slowly, he turned to face the man beside him, and found himself looking into the deep, dark grey-brown eyes of his Japanese beloved.

It was indeed Hanzo.

Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree's one and only true love, had just done the unexpected. He had returned back to him for Christmas.

Something about the serious-looking archer seemed different - McCree couldn't tell whether or not it was the product of his drunken mind hallucinating, but he could have sworn that the last time he had seen Hanzo, he did not have an undercut and various different piercings. Despite those differences, however, he was still undeniably the handsome, solemn man he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

"Han... darlin'... why...?"

McCree could barely manage to get out any of the countless questions that leapt to his mind. In his current state, all he could manage was a confused jumble that he could only hope Hanzo would comprehend.

A reassuring arm came to rest on the weary American's shoulder.

"It does not matter why, Jesse. All that matters is I'm here. For you," was Hanzo's answer. Even the sound of his voice, with its serious edge and mild Japanese accent, soothed the cowboy's drooping spirit. "This is no way to celebrate Christmas... alone."

McCree's only response was some sort of indistinct mumble, as he again lay his head against the cool, hard surface before him.

"Jesse."

This time Hanzo's voice was softer, with a calm tone to it. "Please just come with me. We can celebrate this occasion together, just you and me. We don't need to stay here any longer. Please."

What could McCree say to that? The idea of spending the remainder of his lonely night with Hanzo did sound appealing to him...

It was better than spending it moping around in this trash heap, anyway.

Sighing, the befuddled cowboy picked himself up off the counter, and slowly rose from his seat. The whole room swam before him as he attempted, in vain, to keep his balance.

"A'right then... I'll..."

It didn't take long before he found himself collapsing into the arms of his undeterred Japanese lover.

"It's okay, Jesse. I've got you," was Hanzo's gentle response, as he helped his inebriated lover to his feet. Tenderly, helpfully, he placed his arm around his shoulders, never once taking into consideration the sizeable height difference between them. "We're going to return to where I am staying, and then you can relax."

In spite of his drunkenness, McCree couldn't resist the prospect, and all he could do was let Hanzo take the lead as together they left the dingy bar behind them.

"I'm... glad y'came back...t'me, Han..." was all that McCree could manage as they emerged into the chilly night air.

"I only did what was right," was Hanzo's gentle response, and the cowboy could have sworn that an affectionate smile tugged at the corners of the archer's mouth. "I did not want you to be lonely, Jesse. Not on this night."

...

"Jesse, wake up. It's past twelve o'clock."

McCree opened his eyes, and groaned as the late morning sunlight streamed in a narrow line through the window beside him, the after-effects of all the alcohol he had consumed finally hitting him like a tidal wave. Slowly, he turned his head to his right, and saw Hanzo sitting on the edge of the bed, already awake and dressed.

He closed his eyes. So what if it was mid-afternoon and he hadn't got up yet. He was just too damned tired...

"Jesse. It's past what you would call "high noon". Now wake up. Please."

_Whatever ya say, darlin'..._

"Ugh... Alright..."

It was shaping up to be the kind of day where every little thing, no matter how small or insignificant it may have been in reality, appeared too overbearing, and transmuted itself into a throbbing sensation that assaulted the mind.

It was shaping up to be the kind of day that made Jesse McCree ponder just how much it was worth, staying out late and drinking like there was no tomorrow.

The day after Christmas. December 26th.

A small, humble room in what he supposed was some kind of guest accommodation. Where Hanzo had brought him the previous night.

He really couldn't remember much about that night, to be honest. He could only barely recall how his lover had carefully escorted him to their place of respite, and how he had found, after a miserable evening spent in a drunken stupor, a comfortable place to rest.

He had absolutely no idea where he was. All he knew was that he had definitely experienced better days, times where he had felt much more at ease than the present moment.

Ignoring the relentless pounding in his head, and the nauseated feeling in the pit of his stomach that accompanied it, McCree pushed back the covers and forced himself to sit up. Stretching, trying not to let the feeling of uneasiness completely consume him, he glanced over at his partner on the other side of the bed.

"Well, I s'pose I'd still better wish ya a good-"

McCree paused as he took in the sight before him. A sight he hadn't given much thought to, before now.

The last night, he had been too liquored up to fully take in just how different his lover looked. He had assumed it just to be a product of his inebriated mind, but it appeared that in his absence, Hanzo _had_ actually made quite a few changes to his physical appearance. As he sat opposite McCree, tying back his hair in a similar, though slightly different, fashion to how he did normally, the hungover cowboy carefully drank in every subtle detail of his lover's new image.

Gone, it seemed, were the long, silky mahogany tresses which McCree loved to carefully run his fingers through during particularly intimate encounters with his Japanese lover. Well, mostly. Apart from the section in the middle, which Hanzo had neatly tied back, the sides and back of his head now sported a soft, dark grey-brown stubble, which in the clear midday light looked ever-so-enticingly fuzzy. The new, modern haircut wasn't the only thing that made Hanzo look different, however. As he sat across from the tired cowboy, McCree saw a silver piercing gleam from the bridge of his nose, and noticed the small, silver rings that he had carefully placed in the lobe of each ear. It also dawned on the cowboy that his lover appeared to be wearing casual clothes - not the traditional Japanese outfit he normally wore, but instead a loose-fitting black t-shirt and a large black hoodie.

It was certainly a considerable change to his partner's usual appearance, but he loved it. He hadn't thought that such a thing could be possible, but it only made Hanzo look all the more handsome.

"...aft'rnoon. Well I'll be darned. Ya really _do_ look diff'rent, darlin'. An' I never noticed."

Evidently picking up on the surprise in the American's voice, Hanzo cast a glance in his direction, a faint smile of amusement on his lips.

"You were drunk last night, Jesse. Very much so. Of course you didn't," he responded, chuckling. "But yes. I have changed considerably since the last time we met."

"That much is obvious... Uh. My _head_..."

Having temporarily ceased to allow McCree to take in the changed Hanzo, the unyielding throb that pulsed at his temples returned to him, bringing him swiftly back to earth. In a futile effort to stem the sensation, he hastily brought a hand to his forehead, holding it there for a solid while.

It was just fortunate that he had someone special there for him, though, ready to help. At least he hadn't ended up in some filthy back alley, drunk out of his mind, to face the elements alone and ponder how he'd ended up in such a mess.

A look of concern formed on Hanzo's face. Calmly, he turned from his perch on the edge of their shared bed and pushed himself back up onto its plush surface, where he comfortably positioned himself beside McCree.

"It will pass, Jesse. You'll be fine. Maybe you should try and get some more rest. Maybe then it will subside."

The archer's calming words of advice were accompanied by a reassuring hand on the cowboy's shoulder. Relaxing, the ailing American closed his eyes, and just savoured the intimate moment they now shared between them. It was such a casual action on Hanzo's part - McCree was sure that he thought nothing of it - but it became to him a source of comfort, a ray of light that could almost counter the painful throbbing in his head.

He smiled. At least there was something in his life to keep him going. At least there existed something - someone - to comfort him, to stay by his side no matter what shape he found himself in.

Reciprocating Hanzo's gesture, placing his own arm around the shoulders of his beloved, he replied, "You're probably right, sweetheart... I'm in no mood t' get outa bed..."

...

"How are you feeling now, Jesse?"

Draining the last of his lover's specially-prepared herbal tea, McCree set his mug down on the table and leaned back, feeling much more at ease than earlier that day.

"I feel like a new man, darlin'. Just what exactly was in that stuff, anyway?" he answered, casting an affectionate smile in the direction of the Japanese man seated beside him. "Obviously packs a real punch."

McCree's reply prompted a modest smile from Hanzo, who simply responded by saying, "It was simply a traditional Japanese herbal brew that my family taught me how to make many years ago. It used to help greatly whenever I or Genji fell ill."

"Well, it cert'nly helped me. Ya sure know how to treat a man right, lemme tell ya that much."

There was a pause. A silence, more soft and welcome than awkward, hung in the air between the two men.

After a quiet while, Hanzo broke the silence.

"Jesse..."

"Yes, darlin'?"

"It... it truly makes me happy to know that you think that way of me. Nobody has ever complimented me in that way before."

A strange look settled over the archer's masculine features. Whether or not it was sadness, or anger, or anything else, something about it twisted McCree's heart into feeling nothing but pity for his sombre lover. Without hesitation, he gently placed his left hand on Hanzo's cheek, causing him to look him in the eye.

"But Han, darlin', you're worthy of praise. I have no clue why ya feel that ya aren't, but to me you'll always be. No matter what."

Now the Japanese archer really looked moved.

"Thank you," he responded, in a low voice that sounded close to tears.

McCree couldn't help but smile at the emotion, so frequently locked up deep inside his being, that Hanzo showed in that moment. It was touching, in a way, to know that he truly had the power to turn such a solemn character into one that felt completely at ease in the company of their significant other.

Hypnotised by the alluring umber hue of his lover's eyes, he remained silent, quietly taking in the tenderness, the pure feeling of affection, that the moment had created between them. After what seemed an eternity - he couldn't remember a time when he'd ever found himself unable to get lost in Hanzo's deep brown eyes - he pulled Hanzo closer and leaned in for a passionate kiss.

As per usual, he felt his lover wholly relinquish himself to the sensation, as he allowed himself to melt into the romance of the moment. The archer's lips felt soft against his. Felt so... right. Deepening the kiss, he moved his hand from his lover's face to the back of his head, taking in the new, unfamiliar feel of the short stubble against his fingers. It felt coarse, yet strangely pleasantly soft and fuzzy. Quite a change from the long, luxuriant strands he had grown accustomed to, but he had to admit that it actually felt quite nice.

It didn't take long for McCree's Japanese lover to reciprocate the gesture. Soon, he felt a hand tenderly running its fingers through his unruly brown hair, and softly settling on the back of his head.

Time seemed all but frozen as the two lovers found themselves locked in their own private world. A world, full of love and affection, that they had created, a world devoid of the sorrows and anguish that had so thoroughly pervaded both their lives. In this moment, there was no space for either of them to feel that bitter sting of regret. All they could do was experience the unique feeling of... togetherness.

After endless moments spent sealed in a passionate kiss, McCree pulled away from his lover. Absent-mindedly, the cowboy started softly brushing his hand along the back of his lover's head, still relishing in the feel of the fine, velvety fuzz that covered it, and continued down to the base of his neck. The archer's skin felt warm and inviting to the touch, the blood beneath still beating with the evident thrill only pure love could achieve. Momentarily, he closed his eyes as Hanzo continued to delicately stroke his fingers through his unkempt chestnut hair, satisfying some need he did not know existed deep within himself.

"Mmm... that feels _good_ , darlin'..."

He heard his Japanese companion chuckle softly to himself, and he opened his eyes.

"It does when you do it too, Jesse," Hanzo responded, as he gently withdrew his hand. "I don't think I have ever let you know that."

"Well, why in th' hell wouldn' it?" was the cowboy's faintly amused reply. "Ya know resisting th' urge to play with your beautiful mane is one of the few things I find damn near impossible."

He paused, before adding, "Although it just ain't the same anymore, sweetheart. Don' get me wrong, that new hairdo is real cute, it makes ya look mighty fine, but I miss the good ol' days when I could freely run my hands over your locks without 'em feelin' like a shoe brush."

His teasing remark provoked another chuckle from Hanzo. It seemed that getting him to open up and just smile a little was becoming less than difficult. To the devoted American, it was certainly no longer challenging.

"I had more to consider than merely your wishes, Jesse," was the response he got from the archer. He paused. A slightly more solemn look formed on his face, before he continued, "I... I thought I would try to free myself from what I had inevitably become. Ever since the day that I attempted to kill Genji, I-"

"Han, darlin'. Please don' feel sorry for yourself again. It breaks my heart to know ya still feel bad about that."

Delicately, the cowboy again started to caress his lover's skin with a gentle thumb, as if he were soothing a frightened horse.

"Ya can't keep a hold of the past like that, an' try an' just live with it. Doesn' do much for your health. Ya need t' let go, sweetheart. For your own sake, if not mine."

Hanzo let out a tired sigh. It was obvious that he had heard that sort of statement one too many times.

"It is not that easy, Jesse. I can not simply forget the villainous act I committed, the impact it had on me, the impact it had on my brother. All I can do is wait, in vain, for that feeling of regret to leave me. I tried to shed, at least outwardly, the man I had become, but... I am not certain if I can."

Sighing, he closed his eyes and leaned into McCree's gentle hold. The cowboy continued to delicately stroke his lover's neck, feeling the distinct tension that had crept into the muscle. It seemed, to the American, that he was trying, presumably unsuccessfully, to rid himself of the negativity he had inadvertently brought upon himself. After a few moments spent breathing deeply, in and out, trying to cast away his gloom, McCree felt the weary archer relax. Slowly, Hanzo opened his eyes and adjusted his posture.

"Never mind. Perhaps I am a fool for continuing to overthink such things. I'm sorry."

Hanzo lightly took hold of McCree's hand and prised it off of his neck. Accepting the gesture, the cowboy removed his hand and placed it in his lap, unsure of what to do. All he could do was look on as his lover pushed back his chair and slowly rose from the table.

"Han, don' go apologisin'. I wasn't tryin' to make ya feel bad, honest."

His lover, who had casually started making his way over to the other side of the small kitchen, paused at his American lover's words.

"It's alright, Jesse," he evenly replied, once again casting his gaze in McCree's direction. "I don't. Not while you are here with me."

The following smile he threw in McCree's direction was enough to make the cowboy swoon just a little. To him, it only affirmed one of the many reasons he had for falling in love with the handsome Japanese man, and succeeded in taking him back to the good old days of his youth. To the day when he had first set eyes upon the young and attractive Hanzo Shimada, the day his world was set afire with a burning passion he could not forget.

_Why do ya have t' be such a darn beauty, Han?_

Hanzo apparently never noticed the flustered look that settled upon the face of his American lover. Instead he only continued over towards the far counter, where he once again stopped and turned to his partner.

"I don't suppose you would like some cake?" he questioned casually, to McCree's surprise.

The cowboy could only smile. If it was from his Hanzo, his Japanese darling, he definitely would.

"You betcha, baby."


End file.
